


Like Sparkling Wine

by FantasyFiend09



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 18:58:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4111546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasyFiend09/pseuds/FantasyFiend09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Author Name: Anonymous<br/>Title: Like Sparkling Wine<br/>Songspiration: The Drifters - Save The Last Dance<br/>Prompter: digthewriter<br/>Prompt Number: #26<br/>Pairing(s): Harry/Draco; Hermione/Ron<br/>Summary: Harry has learned that the way to enjoy a ball is to watch Draco enjoying it.<br/>Rating: PG<br/>Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.<br/>Warning(s): None.<br/>Epilogue compliant? EWE; Harry did become an Auror.<br/>Word Count: ~1,300<br/>Author's Notes: I have always loved this song, and I think it works so well with Harry and Draco. Thank you, Prompter! My favourite line is: Oh, I know, that the music's fine, like sparkling wine, go and have your fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Sparkling Wine

Harry arrived at the ball immediately after work. If he didn't come right from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, he wouldn't come at all. He didn't care if his uniform robes looked shoddy next to the latest designer robes from Paris or Milan. He never promised Kingsley he'd be fashionable, only that he'd be present.

 

He stood by the bar nursing a pint as he looked across the room. Boring dignitaries. Conceited old money. Uppity junior Ministry employees hoping to schmooze their way into a promotion. Harry didn't want to talk to any of them.

 

He'd talk to Ron and Hermione once they escaped from Percy's latest story and made the way across the room to him. He'd probably chat with some co-workers—maybe sneak a bit of work in by conferring with Henderson on the McClain case. And when the time came, he would watch.

 

It was an hour into the party and almost everyone was present who was going to be.  It was the perfect time for Draco to enter with his perfect posture and exquisite robes. Harry knew nothing about tailoring, but he knew that the robes showed off Draco's lithe figure, accentuating his broad shoulders and the dramatic tapering down to his narrow hips. Tonight's robes were silver and grey with just enough shimmer and sparkle to catch the eye without seeming flashy. All eyes turned with Harry's to take in the sight of beauty.

 

A waiter lurched forward to offer a tray of champagne, and Draco took a flute with a little nod and a smile that had the waiter grinning back like a loon. The next instant, Draco had turned to face the French Minster, gesturing to her robes with a dramatic sweep of his arms that had her blushing like a school girl and not a major political figure. Lest anyone mistake Draco's intent, he then turned to the Minister's husband and bowed respectfully.

 

Draco was off.

 

One moment he was listening in rapt attention as some gasbag told a tale. The next, he was flirting with a young woman with buck-teeth and bushy hair who looked like an alternative-universe version of Hermione.  A moment later he was telling a story that had even the grumpiest member of the Wizengamot laughing and wiping his eyes.

 

Then the dancing started.

 

Even those who were not charmed by Draco's words were enchanted by his dancing. His back was straight and rigid, while his long limbs stepped and glided with perfect grace. Harry was so entranced by the dip and slid of Draco's body, he didn't notice Ron and Hermione come to his side until Hermione spoke.

 

"He does look amazing out there, doesn't he?"

 

Harry nodded, a little smile pulling at his lips. Draco was in his element: he was the centre of attention, and he soaked up the limelight like a plant did sunlight.

 

"It really doesn't bother you?" Ron sounded like he was trying for casual but couldn't completely mask his concern.

 

Harry turned to face his friend and then turned back to Draco to see what Ron saw. Draco was dancing with a Czech dignitary. The man was tall and handsome, and clearly an accomplished dancer. He kept pace with Draco perfectly, and Harry saw the delight on Draco's face to be able to challenge himself.

 

Harry supposed that Ron saw another man with his hands on Harry's boyfriend, their bodies close and moving to intimate music. But Harry just saw Draco being happy. Harry couldn't dance like that, and he had no desire to try. He could do a simple two-step, and that was the only dance he needed. It worked for a slow song, and the last song was always slow.

 

Harry looked back at Ron and saw the little furrow of concern on his brow. He understood. Perhaps the dignitary thought the dance would lead to something. Perhaps he viewed dancing as foreplay. It didn't matter. Draco would correct any misconceptions.

 

Harry placed a comforting hand on Ron's shoulder and gestured with his chin to where Hermione had been drawn into conversation with the newest member of the Wizengamot. "Hermione looks radiant tonight." It was true. Her bronze robes were understated but flattering as they clung to her curves. "People will look at her. They will appreciate her looks and her intellect." As if on cue, the Wizengamot member leant closer and spoke with more passion. Ron tensed, but stayed by Harry's side. "Do you trust her?"

 

Ron glared at him. "Of course I trust her!"

 

"Then let the others dream a little." Harry smiled at his friend. "After all, that's all they get. The dream."

 

Ron scowled. "You can be all philosophical and sharing. If I find out someone's wanking to thoughts of my wife, I'm going to Hex his balls off."

 

Harry laughed. Thank God for Ron.

 

His eyes drifted back to Draco and their eyes met. Draco arched a brow at Harry's obvious mirth, and Harry just smiled at him and lifted his pint in salute. Draco would be pleased that Harry was enjoying himself. He always seemed baffled by how much Harry disliked these events. If Draco had his way, they would attend a ball every week.

 

Harry glanced back at his friends and saw that Ron had joined Hermione with a possessive arm around her shoulder. Hermione was pink-cheeked and smiling, and that was the difference. Draco didn't want to be held back by an arm around his shoulders, and Harry didn't want to impede the way he danced among the wizarding elite.

 

No, Harry was happiest watching.

 

A wizard from the Improper Use of Magic Office approached Draco and was granted a dance. The music was lively, but the man kept leaning forward and trying to hold Draco closer. Harry saw the irritation on Draco's face, but knew anyone else would miss the subtle tightening of Draco's features.

 

The man from Improper Use certainly did. He kept pushing forward and saying things that Draco clearly did not want to hear. Harry felt his body tense, but held himself back. Draco could handle his own and wouldn't thank him if he made a scene.

 

With a graceful turn, Draco appeared to stumble into another couple. Harry knew it was a ruse—Draco was anything but clumsy—but it provided a perfect opportunity for Draco to abandon dancing and begin charming the couple he'd bumped into. By the time the next song began, the man from Improper Use was chatting with the couple and Draco was across the room refilling his champagne with Kingsley's wife.

 

Harry smiled. He sometimes wished Draco had become an Auror, too. They could certainly use his subtlety and charm. But Draco love cracking Curses, and Harry loved Draco being happy.

 

Draco had vanished from sight again. Harry scanned the room, but did not see Draco's distinct pale hair.

 

Firm arms wrapped around his waist and Draco's low voice spoke in his ear. "The next dance is yours."

 

Harry still couldn't say that he liked dancing, but he loved the last dance with Draco. Many of the attendees had already left for their early bedtimes or to relieve the sitters watching their children, and the first notes of the slow ballad sent another wave—mainly young singles—running for the nightclubs.

 

Only the couples remained, and a group of them congregated on the dance floor. As the man's voice began to sing, Draco wrapped his arms around Harry's neck and rested his head on his shoulder.

 

The performance was over.

 

No more stories or jokes; no more flattery or careful questions. This was just Draco, swaying to a sweet melody as he rested in Harry's arms.

 

"Did you have fun tonight?" Harry didn't need to ask, but he enjoyed the contented sigh Draco's released against his neck before confirming he had. "Me too."

 

They rocked in time with the music until the last notes of the violin faded out.

 

"I'm tired," Draco murmured. "Take me home."

  
And Harry did.

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